


All the World's A Stage

by gleekto



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine Advent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:49:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleekto/pseuds/gleekto
Summary: Kurt has been waiting his whole life to get to college, to NYC, to a place where he isn’t the only out gay kid in the world. His friend, Santana, is apparently excited for him too because she sneaks handfuls of condoms into his bag as a joke right before he leaves. Whatever Santana. He’d just like to kiss a boy. Or maybe go out on a date.Kurt’s in his new dorm room, a freshman at NYADA, unpacking when his new roommate, Blaine, arrives. Hot. Ego. But nice. Okay. Then Kurt accidentally knocks his bag off the bed and Santana’s condoms spill all over the floor. You never get a second chance to make a first impression…





	1. Chapter 1

The room is quaint, Kurt muses. With a little of his flair, perhaps it could even be cozy. His newly purchased Broadway Greats poster from the Broadway flea market will fit acceptably on the wall beside his bed, covering at least some of the white cinder blocks. Pictures of his high school glee club and of his dad at the car shop both fit on the shelf above his bed, and his laptop is already open on his desk, the Les Mis soundtrack playing in the background. Perfect sing-along unpacking music. He’s at an arts school and requested a gay-friendly roommate but he isn’t going to be caught playing ‘Rent’ or disco before he even meets the guy. 

“ _And if I die, let me die_ -”

“Oh hey. Apologies for the interruption.” A male voice in the doorway. “I’m Blaine.” The roommate, so his form tells him. Blaine who has now caught him singing. It’s fine. It’s theatre school. And he has a great voice. He wills his cheeks to un-redden as he turns around.

Oh. _Handsome._ Tight cuffed dark blue jeans. Burgundy thin wool sweater. Loafers. No socks. Thighs. _What?_ He’s doing a minor in fashion design. 

Blaine reaches out his hand.  “I played Marius in my community theatre’s production last summer.” Kurt shakes it. _Ego._ “My ex played Valjean.”

 _Evened out by gay._ Guess there was something to that requesting a gay-friendly roommate after all.

“An older man?” Smooth. But really it’s a natural question. Valjean is like sixty years old.

Blaine laughs and blushes. Handsome and cute too, apparently. “No. Not unless you mean older as in 18 and a half. It was a youth production. Well, what about you?”

Any attempt at un-reddening is now clearly futile. What is he supposed to say? I’m from small town Ohio and unlike you, Mrs. Valjean, I haven’t even kissed a boy. It’s not like he went to Dalton Academy, or as he likes to think of it, Ohio’s gay Hogwarts. “No. No 18 and a half year old Valjeans in my boring life-”

“No. I mean,” Blaine chuckles, “I meant Les Mis -  you sound like you were made for Valjean. The part. Not my ex.”

Oh. Ten points to Gryffindor. Or is he a Hufflepuff? Far too earnest to be a Slytherin. And Blaine likes his voice. 

“No. Sadly I lost the part of Tony in West Side Story to a junior,” Kurt huffs. “But I did make a killer Officer Krupke. Let me find the picture -” He turns around to rummage through his backpack.

“Oh I’d love to see-” And Blaine is right behind him, breathing over his shoulder, hand relaxed on his back. Does this guy require no personal space? 

“I can’t find-” He turns quickly around and steps back, knocking his backpack off the bed, littering the floor with his sketchbook, Rachel’s never-leave-home-without-it sheet music, that Officer Krupke photo ( _oh there it is_ ), and a now spilled box of 32 banana flavored extra large condoms, courtesy of Santana. 

 _Ummm._ He is speechless, trying to choose between humiliated and mortified when he looks up at Blaine who is…amused.

Highly amused. His eyebrows are practically popping off his forehead.

Kurt takes a deep breath, “I”m sorry - My friend-”

“No, no need to apologize. Why be Valjean when you can be Alexander Hamilton, right?” Blaine leans in conspiratorily.  “I get it. Trust me,  I went to Dalton Academy.” _Where are words when Kurt needs them?_ “Just be sure to put a sock on the door, okay?” Blaine winks at him. He _winks_.  “Unless of course, you like an audience.” 

...

Charm. The blessing and curse of Blaine Anderson.

He’s been told he has it in spades- polite, handsome, suave with a little bit of ego on top.  It’s a blessing  because it lets him succeed - the NYADA audition, the local play, the Warblers - on a stage, he can have the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. Look them in the eye, sell the feeling, sing his heart out. And always thank them for coming. They make it possible for him to do what he does. He performs.

Now it’s the end of his second week at NYADA. It’s 1:33am, so his phone tells him. Kurt is quietly sleeping across the room and he’s staring at the ugly white ceiling of his now pretty nicely decorated dorm room, feeling the charm slip away. 

He and Kurt seem to get along pretty well. Other than their love for musical theatre which was a given, they’re both from Ohio, both did Glee club, and both like hate watching Treme, as it turns out. They go to combat class at the gym together, and when others (like him) succumb to the pressure of partying late on a weekend night, Kurt is content to pour over his latest design assignments. Kurt is quiet in groups, but polite, but seems happy to talk to him alone in their room while sketching. He’s hard to crack but he talks to Blaine  - and without an audience Kurt is smart, wry, funny. Blaine thinks he lucked out in the roommate department. 

But he wonders what Kurt thinks. The Dalton Academy boy. Lead of his rival glee club, the Warblers. First chosen to perform in the fall showcase. Dancing in gay bars every weekend, coming home slightly drunk late at night. Kurt never says anything except last Sunday morning he did hand him his cover up pointing to the hickey on his neck, “Feel free to steal from my banana flavored collection,” Kurt blushed, “Just don’t tell me about it.”. God. How did that hickey end up happening anyways? Rhetorical question. He’s a good dancer. He wore a tight t-shirt. It’s not that hard to figure out. He wants to tell Kurt that it’s all kind of boring. Just like his ex. That he’d like to learn how to sew a cardigan.

When he wakes up the next morning, Kurt is at his desk, working on his theatre history assignment. “The beast awakens.” Kurt looks over at him.

“Oh god, do I look that bad?” Blaine squints at himself in the mirror.

Kurt smirks, “Not sure it’s possible.” Blaine thinks he hears Kurt mumble under his breath. He’d be content to stay in here and study with him all day and watch Treme at night. 

So naturally he says, “Wanna come out with us tonight? There’s a drag show at midnight.” Kurt looks at him skeptically. “I won’t take no for an answer.” No one can resist that smile.

...

He’s not sure how he got roped into this. Actually, that’s not true. He does know. His cute-handsome, bed-headed roommate woke up warm and smiley and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And Kurt’s powers of resistance, while formidable, are apparently weakened by the charming ball of roommate that is Blaine Anderson.

So now he’s here. In a NYC gay club, fake id supplied by Blaine’s actually 21 year old friend from the campus pub. Has he mentioned that Blaine makes friends everywhere? He does. It’s exhausting. And he feels slightly ridiculous for being under Blaine’s spell just like everyone else but it appears he is. So anyways. Kurt likes good music. He likes dancing. And Blaine bought him a suitably fruity ‘Sea Breeze’, which actually, he also likes.

“Come dance,” Blaine pulls him into the centre of the dance floor, into a circle of people from their program - the two gay guys Kurt has already dismissed as the rumour-creating gossips, a pretty cool brainy-hippie chick named Caroline, her boyfriend, bearded Bo, and Rachel, his one condition that he required before agreeing to this night out - Rachel comes. Of course, Blaine loves Rachel (he loves everybody) so here they are.

“He’s cute,” Blaine leans over to yell into his ear over the blaring music, pointing at a buff blonde guy in a tight tank top beside them.

Kurt takes a quick glance, “Gym bunny, not my type. He’s all yours.”

Blaine laughs, “No. Not my type either.” Thrumping danced up Madonna swirls around him. The floor vibrates. He’s a little buzzed. Blaine’s fingertips on his arm, “The guy over there is looking at you.” Kurt opens his eyes, looks, turns quickly away. Blaine actually isn’t lying. Blue eyed hipster with wavy brown hair and a goatee is actually looking at him. And he is kind of cute. But he’s also kind of a stranger. Which is just not his thing. And goatees are so ten years ago.

He knows why Blaine is doing this. It’s his fault really for not dispelling the idea the moment it happened. For all the casual conversations and late night tv binges they’ve had in the last few weeks, he never did tell Blaine that the spilled condoms weren’t his, wouldn’t ever be his. They were literally a joke. As far as Blaine is concerned, though, he is the Dalton boy, freshly out of a relationship, who comes home with hickeys, and Kurt is the quiet casanova with a secret stash of conquests. With a banana-flavored kink. Ew. But Blaine approves, apparently. They get along great for new roommates - confident talents with don’t-kiss-and-tell intrigue on the side. Blaine sees them as equals. And Kurt has made no effort to reveal the man behind the facade - a sometimes shy silly romantic who hasn’t even been on a date. He has standards. And a stranger doesn’t meet them. 

“Ha. No thanks,” Kurt rolls his eyes.

“It’s the goatee, isn’t it?”

Kurt nods but laughs, “Or something.”

Two more drinks and he’s pleasantly tipsy, loving the music, twirling Caroline, dipping Rachel, and even letting himself enjoy the flirty sexuality of the gossip gays, and Blaine. Blaine. Hands on a hip to whisper the next song’s name, breath on his ears, his neck. It’s so loud, so crowded, their bodies have to be this close, their shoulders touch accidentally. It all melts together.

“You have 30 minutes left to go up to any guy who catches your discriminating eye,” Blaine teases as the evening starts to wind down.

“True, actually.”

“Yeah, it’s almost closing.”

“No. That I’m discriminating,” Kurt puffs out his chest like a peacock and Blaine giggles. It’s the alcohol.

“So who’s it going to be?” Blaine is relentless. 

“No thanks. They’re all yours. I dare you. Dance with your man of the hour, Blaine.” Two roommies, enjoying the chase.

Blaine raises his eyebrows, “Is that a challenge?”

“Yes.” Kurt knows how competitive he is. 

“Okay.” Blaine nods and walks away towards the bar. Kurt breathes a sigh of relief and turns towards Rachel. He’s safe for the moment, ‘reputation’ in tact, and he doesn’t need to watch Blaine non-chalantly make out with tonight’s conquest. He sways his hips to the beats pumping.

“Hey.” Maybe two minutes later and a hand is on his waist behind him, he turns around. Blaine hands him a final drink and raises it in toast with his own. “Cheers.”

Kurt side eyes him but chinks their glasses. Blaine drinks and puts down his glass. Then there are Blaine’s hands on his hips, pulling him in, bodies flush. They’ve been dancing together all night but not exactly like this. He doesn’t think. He puts down his glass, hands on Blaine’s chest. Blaine’s arms are tighter. The music swirls and he closes his eyes.

Thirty minutes later, they’re back in their dorm room, hydrated with three glasses of water, teeth brushed, under their respective covers.

“You had too much to drink tonight,” Kurt starts.

“Maybe,” Blaine muses to the ceiling. “But even sober,  I can’t refuse a dare.” 

...

“You’re home early.” Kurt glances up from the suit he’s working on for his men’s fashion design elective as Blaine tiptoes in at 11:30pm, hours earlier than his usual Saturday night shenanigans. But, Blaine notes, he always comes home these days. Waking up next to a not-as-cute-in-the-morning stranger in a leaky apartment seems so much less appealing than their own well decorated dorm room. And besides, he’s on a meal plan. Which means a nice, free, hot breakfast in the morning.

“You’re up late,” Blaine muses back and clicks the door shut, tossing his jacket over his desk chair. 

Kurt had finally agreed to go out dancing with them a couple of weeks ago, but Kurt did warn him the next day that the alcohol and the dancing are his exception, not the rule. Kurt’s serious about keeping his scholarship, and Blaine knows better than to challenge Kurt’s self discipline. Anyways, he’s okay with dancing with Kurt only on special occasions because the combination of alcohol, and sexy music, and Kurt, are likely to get him in trouble. He was proud of himself that night - he didn’t perform the part of gay bar superstar that he thinks Kurt expects of him  - which sometimes he even expects of himself - it’s so easy. It’s boring. But he did end up dancing with Kurt instead. On a dare. Kurt’s dare. And he didn’t really want to let go.

Ugh it is simply way too early in the year for this kind of a crush. On his roommate. His thoughtful, funny, slightly mysterious roommate with a humility that makes absolutely zero sense if you ever happened to catch a glimpse of him changing after combat class. By accident, of course. They’re mutually respectful in their dorm room, turning around, stepping out, eyes back on the books when Kurt quickly changes his t-shirt. But it is absolutely not Blaine’s fault that Kurt sauntered out of the gym locker room shower with only a towel around his waist last week. He knows Kurt caught him looking. Thinks he saw him chuckle in amusement before turning away. Bastard. 

Anyways, Kurt is right. Tonight he came home early from disco night with Matt and Jeff (or the gossip gays as Kurt likes to call them). They’ve been teasing him about Kurt since their night out. “What _was_ that?” One had asked him the next day. “He’s your _roommmate_.” The other added informatively. _Thanks_. Like he wasn’t aware. “I bet he has yuppie men in suits over when you’re out.” Tweedle Dee. “Or more likely, they rendez vous at the Suit’s place. Didn’t you say you met him over his stash of condoms?” While the last part is true, Blaine is fairly certain that Kurt isn’t really into fancy young businessmen paying for his five course meal. He’s too down to earth. But as for Kurt’s actual type, Blaine has no idea. Kurt never talks about it. As for Blaine’s type, well, when Matt and Jeff set out for club number two of the evening, pulling him along the street, he realized that his cozy room, with his warm pajamas, and their broadway showtunes mix if Kurt was still up, was definitely a better type of Saturday night at least.

“Yeah, I’m on a roll with this blazer. Who needs a well dressed man when I can make his clothes myself, right?” Kurt says with his standard self deprecation.

“Yeah,” Blaine nods. “They’re all kind of dull, anyways.”

“Oooh. Rough night?”

“Not really,” Blaine shrugs and plops himself down on Kurt’s bed beside him. “It’s 11:30 and I’m sober.” Kurt nods, scooching over to make room. “I’m suddenly bored by hot guys in skintight jeans wanting to make out or take me home, or whatever.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Must be tough.” Kurt looks back down at his sewing.

“What? No. I’m being serious here - “

“Blaine,” Kurt looks up at the wall in front of them,  uncharacteristically sharp, “Being the new guy that everyone wants - while I appreciate that this could be slightly annoying in some circumstances - does not make the cut for movies about great human struggles.”

“Says the mysterious hottie who refuses all advances before he even knows who they’re from.” Blaine huffs.  Kurt’s mouth drops slightly open and is that a smile? Gone before Blaine is sure. Kurt’s face is blank again. Or maybe amused.

“Last year, I met John - or Mr. Valjean as you call him - on set and we’d rehearse and party, rehearse and party. I hadn’t had a boyfriend before-” Blaine looks up at Kurt, confessing. He sees Kurt looking at him, straight faced, listening. He doesn’t seem to care. Okay. “And I guess it was fun. Someone to do stuff with-” Kurt squeaks. “No I don’t mean - Well, that too. But I’ll spare you the details, I know you’re a private guy. I mean to hang out with, go to movies, hold hands.” He pauses and looks at Kurt who is just focused on him. He’s silent. “But we didn’t have a lot to talk about once our play was done. He was going back to school in Ohio, I was coming here and I don’t think either of us thought it was one of canon’s great romances.”

“And now you’re looking for one of canon’s great romances?” 

“I have no idea,” How ridiculous would that sound? “I just know that on a Saturday night I’d rather be in my pajamas with popcorn and those horribly scented vanilla candles” - He points to Kurt’s aroma therapy jar on the window - “Than out in a gay club with more eligible men than there were in all of Ohio.”

“So tough,” Kurt repeats, glancing sideways at him, but it’s teasing this time. He hopes it’s flirty. He’s not sure if it is. 

“Do I detect a little jealousy?” Blaine teases back.

“Ha!” Kurt looks away from him fast and blushes bright red. He is suddenly very focused on the movement of the sewing needle in his hand. 

As the clock ticks past midnight, Blaine knows his resistance is down. He isn’t sure what to do. He wants him - wants to kiss him breathless and take off his clothes and touch his pale marble skin and his muscled chest and all the parts they’ve been hiding from each other. He wants to crack the mystique and make him fall apart and then take him to the movies and come home and watch Treme and then make love again and again. God, he is looking for canon’s great romance. _Make love_. What the hell is up with him?

“Kurt.” Blaine puts his hand on top of Kurt’s hand with the sewing needle, pausing his movement. “Can you put this down?” Kurt takes away his hand and places the needle on the bedside table, along with the almost finished blazer. Kurt turns to him but looks down at his own hands, folding them over and over in his lap. “Thanks,” Blaine chuckles. “You know, unintentional weapons on hand.”

“I have no plans to murder my roommate during my first semester at NYADA. Condition of my scholarship.” Kurt glances up from his hands and makes eye contact. The energy between them is heavy. Is this really happening?

His heart pounds and he puts his hand back on top of Kurt’s. “Even if your roommate wants to kiss you?” 

He feels Kurt shiver and then they’re kissing.He’s not even sure who initiated it, they were already so close. And just as he’s trying to make sure this is where Kurt wants to be, whom he wants to be with, Kurt’s hands press against his face, his neck, pulling him in. Kurt’s hands are everywhere, tracing his profile and holding on to him. _He_ is breathless. Kurt’s mouth follows his hands. He’s sure he’s melting and chases Kurt’s mouth again to make sure he’s still there. He is. Until Blaine is sinking down on to the bed under Kurt’s weight and pull and Kurt sits up suddenly.

“I have to go.” Blaine feels his heart sink as Kurt stands up and grabs his jacket. “I can’t-” Kurt’s breath shakes. “You don’t realize that-”

“Realize what?”

“Blaine,” Kurt tries. “You still don’t realize that,” He breathes. “Well, that I don’t like bananas.” Okay.

Kurt leaves. Blaine’s heart aches. You don’t get a part in one of canon’s great romances when you enter your scene too early and it’s only your audition.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt tries to be silent as he opens the door to his dorm room, to _their_ dorm room, at 4:00am. He sees Blaine lying on his own bed, under his covers in the dark.

“So were you trying to tell me that you’re straight?” Clearly Blaine isn’t asleep. Kurt closes the door.

“Am I that bad a kisser?” Kurt wonders if he failed the test.

“I’ve been going over and over what you said for like-” Blaine looks at his phone - “Three hours now.” Blaine’s voice is hoarse, confused. “Bananas? You’re trying to tell me that you don’t like boys. Or penises. Or something. I mean, I didn’t get the straight vibe, but I won’t judge. I just wish you would have told me before -” 

Kurt can’t help but appreciate the comedy of his apparently alternate reality where he has to have a conversation like this. “Please don’t use that word.”

“What? Straight?”

“No,” Kurt laughs despite himself. “And no, I’m not. Really, Blaine.I like boys. And-”

“Penises.”

“Stop.”

“Oh,” Blaine sighs with relief. “I’m happy to hear that. Though I didn’t know I could make you blush at the mere mention of-” Blaine sits up on his bed, feet on the floor. He’s coy and flirty again. Ugh what is he going to do?

Kurt spent the last hour on an against-his-better-judgement call to the instigator of all this, the giver-of-condoms-culprit, Santana Lopez. And he admits that after she laughed and laughed and laughed at him for the condom debacle, and after she wooped and woohoo’ed and whistled that he was finally “getting some action” (definitely her words), he admits that what she said made some sense.  “First of all, get your ass back to your dorm room and man-up. Since when are you the type of person to have a quickie and leave someone hanging?”

“It isn’t fair.” Kurt was allowed to be whiny. It was three am and he was about to be rejected by his crush and his roommate. Oh god. He’s his _roommate_. “ All the eligible gays in New York City and I meet Mr. Everyone Wants Me and All this Sex is So Boring.”

Santana tsk’ed him. “Of all the adjectives I could use to describe you - and trust me, there are many - _boring_ isn’t one of them. So go show him who you are. And while sex with you probably _is_ boring-”

“Ew.”

“Yes, well I imagine Mr. Can’t-Keep-His-Hands-off-His-Roommate is probably even more boring than you. So you know, go for it.”

“But I haven’t-”

“He wants your ass, Kurt. That’s all he cares about.”

And while he doesn’t actually think that that’s all Blaine wants, she has a point.

So here he is. Manning up. 

“Well, you can,” Kurt answers.

“What are we talking about now?”

“I am, you know, easily embarrassed by talk of-” He waves his hands in the air in explanation.

“Well, I guess I should have known when you turned beet red after spilling your ridiculous banana flavored condoms on the floor the day we met,” Blaine’s eyebrows rise up knowingly. Uh Huh. “Bananas.”

“Yeah. Bananas.”

“So you don’t like condoms?”

“Ugh no, Blaine. Yay safe sex,” Kurt cheers, “Do I have to spell it out for you?

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Blaine is unnaturally sincere. It’s like an antidote to his sarcasm or something.

“I don’t like bananas. So, you know, I would never buy banana flavoured condoms. They aren’t mine.” Okay it’s out.

“Well I figured they were a joke. No one actually uses banana flavoured condoms. And I even like bananas, but gross.” Blaine makes an adorable scrunched up disgusted face. Blaine must be picturing - _God_. He’s officially a pervert, picturing his roommate doing things he should not be picturing. And Blaine thought they were a joke. Oh. And yet he’s so innocent, he didn’t even realize.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Kurt,” Blaine purses his lips and looks to the ceiling as if to find answers. “All I know is one minute we were kissing - and even against my better judgment that kissing my literal dorm roommate is probably not the most practical idea - I don’t think I imagined that you were kissing me back,” Blaine pauses. Kurt nods. “And then you stop and run out muttering something about not liking bananas. So now you actually came back and you’re still gay, two positive developments given the circumstances. And maybe you didn’t actually hate kissing me?”

Kurt closes his eyes. He thinks that the three minutes kissing Blaine rival his birth and his solo at Nationals for the best three minutes of his life. His handsome, kind, talented friend kissing him, wanting him, and he had not even realized how much he wanted back. A faucet being turned on after years being tightly shut. He was pretty much on autopilot - desire rushing out. Who cares about anything else? It felt amazing. “I didn’t hate it,” Kurt looks at him. “I liked it actually.”

“Me too.” There’s a comfortable crackle between them and Kurt wants to hit pause. Leave it here, at this feeling.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” Kurt says quickly.

“Okay.”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

Blaine shrugs, “Okay. We’re only eighteen.”

“Blaine, I had never been kissed before.” Well, the damage is done. 

Blaine’s eyes go wide in surprise, but still he says, “Oh. Okay. That’s kind of hot, actually.”

“Blaine,” Kurt throws his orange throw pillow at him, indignant. He walks over to his bed, sits beside him. “So you don’t care?”

“Oh no, I care. Not fair.”

“What?”

“You didn’t tell me it was your first kiss. It’s a movie moment, and I didn’t even get the script. I was clearly woefully unprepared.” If that was woefully unprepared…

“You could try again?” Was that flirty? He’s trying to be flirty. 

Blaine smiles at him and leans in, brushing their lips together in not quite a kiss. “I don’t know, Kurt,” Blaine’s breath is now on his ear and yes, this is definitely flirty. “You never get a second chance to make a first impression.”

...

Blaine has learned a lot about Kurt in the last two weeks. He’s learned that the- morning-after-the-night-before, Kurt is as cool as a cucumber, off to the gym despite a lack of sleep, finishing his paper and ready for their weekly ‘The Bachelor’ watch right on time. Kurt flicked on the television, popcorn between them, as always. But Blaine notices that Kurt sits closer to him on the bed, shoulders touching,  and lets Blaine interlace their pinkies as they tear apart the contestants.  He’s learned that Kurt loves kissing. And he’s pretty sure that Kurt loves kissing _him._ When the day is done, homework complete, and Blaine is lying on his bed reading the latest Vogue, Kurt will crawl in beside him, toss the mag, and wrap his arms around him. They end up wrapped around each other most nights these days, legs intertwined, bodies flush. And sometimes it’s lazy mouths kissing gently, breathing each other in, but sometimes their bodies start to rock and Kurt pulls him closer, teasing with the pressure, hands unbuttoning Blaine’s pajama top. And then Blaine will groan, and Kurt will laugh, and Blaine will mutter something about “killing him” and “cooling off” and “let me shower and then we should talk about this”. Kurt always agrees. But is asleep before he gets back. And the next morning he is off to class, sometimes pressing his lips to Blaine’s cheek if Blaine is lucky. It’s a bit of a pattern.

Despite his best efforts, he can’t pin him down. To talk. Kurt’s too clever to get cornered -there’s somewhere to be, a project to do, sleep to be had. For long lingering kisses, underneath him on his bed, there’s time. But not a conversation. And they need to talk - _What are they doing? What does Kurt want? You realize that if you keep undoing those buttons we’re going to be naked and there’s no turning back?_ Ironically, it’s Blaine who always stops things.

“Hello.”  Blaine closes the door as he enters from choir practice.

“Hello.” Kurt puts down his textbook.

“You done your assignment?” 

“Mmmhmmm,” Kurt looks up at him, interested.

“You have anything else to do for the night?”

“Mmm mmm” Kurt shakes his head, bats his eyelashes, and shifts over on his bed. An invitation.

“Okay good. Because I want to play a game.” Blaine wills himself to resist Kurt open and loose on his bed. Kurt frowns as Blaine sits down on his own bed. “A guessing game.”

“A game? Really? Because my brain is kind of fried and-”

“The game is called ‘Would you rather?’”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I can make this short and sweet - I would rather walk barefoot on a bed of nails than eat a raw cockroach but I feel like there are more entertaining things we could be doing with our time than learning about each others’ tolerance for imaginary gore that has no resemblance to real life.”

“I agree.” Blaine looks at him, assessing. “So then let’s start with real life. An easy one - Would you rather be kissed on the neck or that spot behind your ear?”

Kurt blushes and Blaine feels the sweetness of the moment despite his task at hand. And now Blaine has piqued his interest. “You know the answer to that Blaine.”

“I do. Judging by the way you moved underneath me last night.” Blaine moves to sit beside Kurt on Kurt’s bed, leaning in to place a soft kiss behind his ear. 

Kurt groans. “Is the game over now?”

“Just getting started,” Blaine sits back up, facing Kurt, knees touching. “Would you rather be drunk and have an intense one night of trying everything you haven’t done at once, or would you rather take things slowly, bit by bit, for months?”

Kurt crosses his arms. “I see where this is going.”

Blaine shrugs, “Inquiring minds want to know.”

Kurt huffs. “Okay. But are those my only choices? Months? Versus drunk? Blaine, I am not responsible for the things I want to do to you when we’re together,” Blaine feels _himself_ blush warmly at the image. “Drunk? No. But months? Does it have to be like everything and the kitchen sink all at once? I don’t know.” Kurt flops down on his bed dramatically.

“Good to know,” Blaine nods. “Okay so, would you-”

“Wait. It’s my turn. Didn’t you just get two turns? Cheater.”

“Go for it.”

“Okay,” Kurt drums his fingers on his shirt, thinking. “Boyfriend or Fling?”

“You know the answer to that,” He traces patterns on Kurt’s thigh and feels Kurt shiver. “Is that really what you want to know? You do have another turn, you know?”

“Okay fine. Top or bottom?” Kurt says quickly then closes his eyes, scrunching them up, trying to block out the answer.

Blaine laughs out loud, then flops down beside him. “Guess.”

“Guess?” Kurt opens one eye. “Top?” He scrunches his eyes closed again.

“Well, in my vast experience” Blaine says and Kurt sits up and stares down at him. If looks could kill. Blaine pulls him back down, laughing, “Of having tried each position exactly one time-”

“One time?” Blaine nods. “Really? But what about Mr. Valjean and-”

“The times were with him. We were both new to it. It took us a while to get there and we weren’t very good at-”

“But what about those frosh week flings?”

“Anal sex? With _them_?” 

Kurt winces. “Must you always be so descriptive?”

“I may have come home with a hickey but there’s no way I would do _that_ with strangers.” Finally. They are finally talking.

“You wouldn’t?”

“I’m not that kind of boy, Kurt. I don’t know their history,” Blaine shakes his head. “And besides, it’s too, you know.”

“No, I don’t.” Kurt says meaningfully.

“It’s too intense. Too intimate.” Blaine says and Kurt’s looking at him, judging. He thinks he’s passing.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess I don’t know either.  Maybe you’ll know the answer one day.”

Kurt elbows Blaine in the side. “We’ll see.”

“Would you rather me get you naked right now or wait ‘til this weekend?”Blaine blurts out and scrunches _his_ eyes, “Don’t slap me.” He peaks out of one eye and Kurt’s jaw has dropped, but he doesn’t seem mad so that’s something. 

“I might’ve slapped you if I hadn’t been trying to get you there for the last two weeks.” Blaine’s eyes go wide. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s - Well, I wasn’t sure but I sort of thought so -”

“Cocky.”

“Well, you were moving and unbuttoning like you were trying to get in my pants-” Kurt scowls, “And trust me, my pants were not unhappy about it.”

“So.”

“So what?”

“So why didn’t we? I wasn’t sure you wanted me like that.”

Blaine is indignant, “You could _feel_ that that wasn’t the case, Kurt. I mean. I know you are actually not _that_ innocent.”

“Then what? I think you like me. Like that.”

“I do. I just don’t want to screw this up.”

Kurt nods, unsatisfied. “So we can’t get naked because I’m too pure?”

“Kurt, I met you over spilled banana flavored condoms. And I’ve been making out with you for weeks now. You may blush at the word _penis_ ,” Never fails, “But I have no misconceptions about your purity. I have had your hands on me. Even if they _were_ north of the equator,” Blaine points to his belt. But Kurt looks suspicious. “Naked is the easy part for me. I want to talk to you late at night, watch our shows, take you to the movies. You know, woo you.” 

Kurt giggles. “You want to _woo_ me?”

Blaine goes for it, “Would you rather be my boyfriend or have a fling?”

“Guess.”

“No, I can’t.” Screw games. This is the real deal.

“I would rather be your boyfriend,” Kurt answers with a pink-cheeked smile and Blaine smiles back. It’s silly. But nice. “If,” Kurt pauses for dramatic effect (They both appreciate drama), “You will get naked with me.”

“How about this weekend? Saturday night. Red wine, chocolate?”

“So you can woo me?”

“Yes.”

“I like flowers too.”

“Deal.” Blaine smiles to himself and flops down relaxed on Kurt’s bed. “So hello again.”

“Hello again.”

“You have anything else to do for the night?”

Kurt doesn’t bat his eyelashes. He just climbs on top, hands on Blaine’s face and kisses him slowly.

Game over.

...

“This is a terrible idea.” Rachel scolds over their greasy french fries, sitting across from Kurt at the cafeteria at lunch. 

“I don’t care.” Kurt rolls his eyes and munches on another french fry, tolerating the inevitable lecture.

“Kurt, while I appreciate that you have been waiting to leave Lima for a long time, and that you were looking forward to meeting eligible young men in New York City, I think it would do you well to look beyond the person actually sleeping in your dorm room.”

“It’s convenient.” Kurt smirks and Rachel huffs. He had warned Blaine that telling their friends of their newfound boyfriendship was going to open a can of worms.  Rachel would be shocked. And have a hard time digesting the idea. And so would firmly insert her unwanted advice into the equation.

“Seriously Kurt, I have always imagined you meeting your man - a junior,” She pauses for dramatic effect. As if her fantasy is going to change his mind. “You’ll exchange numbers, have coffee, go out on a few dates. It will be slow and romantic - what you’ve always dreamed of.”

“Or what _you’ve_ always dreamed of?” He repeats. He dips his fry in the ketchup. “Truth time, Rachel. I actually don’t care what you think. Well, that’s not totally true. I already have all the information I need from you. I know you already think he’s the best male performer in our class, other than me, of course-”

“Of course.” They at least agree on that much.

“Incredibly hot-”

“Kurt, I would never-”

“We’ve all seen him in his tiny little jeans, Rachel. Some things are impossible not to notice. His ass is worth staring at.” Rachel gasps, scandalized. Kurt’s suddenly enjoying himself. 

“Kurt,” Rachel whispers,  “I’ve never seen you like this before,” Rachel is staring at him and shaking her head and Kurt sighs loudly.

He claps his hands down on the table, “Right, Rachel. You haven’t. I like Blaine. And he likes me. And he’s kind and talented-”

“And has a nice ass,” Rachel adds. Kurt nods. He has her.

“Yes.”

“But don’t you want a slow burn? Chocolates and flowers?” Rachel’s last stand. “A real _gentleman_?” 

“As a matter of fact, Blaine is bringing me chocolates and flowers tomorrow night. Dorm rooms don’t prohibit romance, you know?”

Rachel looks impressed. “Oh. Well, that is nice,” She gives in. “Fresh flowers for you?”

Kurt nods, “Roses, I’m hoping.” Kurt muses and Rachel nods in agreement. 

“A gentleman brings red roses,” Rachel confirms.

“Right before he gets me naked,” He adds for impact. Rachel’s eyes bug out.

This conversation is turning out to be fun after all.

...

“This is a terrible idea.” Tina admonishes sternly over her steaming cup of Broadway Bean coffee. Blaine had met Tina in training for their coffee shop shifts. The friendship is still relatively new but Blaine likes having someone to playfully fawn over boys with - he’d been in school with only boys for so long. And as much as Dalton has a reputation as ‘gay hogwarts’, it really isn’t. It’s still in the middle of Ohio, after all. 

Until now, he had kept everything with Kurt on the down low - he didn’t want to rock any boat that had yet to sail. But now they were sailing, and he thought Tina would appreciate the drama of dating his roommate. They’re theatre students after all.

Blaine pouts, “Oh come on, Tina. Hasn’t there ever been that forbidden fruit that you just couldn’t resist?”

“Yes of course. He just wasn’t my _roommate_. You do realize the problems that this particular living arrangement can create?” And the irony of living with your boyfriend before you’ve even had sex isn’t lost on Blaine. But he likes it. Maybe naively. But he does. “And is that what this guy is to you - a forbidden fruit? ‘Cause that’s going to get boring really-”

“No, not at all, actually,” Blaine shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee. “It was actually my frosh week “fun”,” Blaine makes the quotation marks with his fingers, “That was getting boring. But Kurt and I were getting along perfectly that whole time. Like, I don’t know, like we’d known each other for a long time. We both have our high school scars, we like fashion, and trashy reality tv-”

“Wait, _Kurt?_ Kurt who likes reality TV?”

“Yeah. Kurt Hummel. My roommate.”

“Oh my god.”

“You _know_ him?”

“Well considering he was in my high school Glee club for four years.” Oh my god. Blaine was not expecting this plot twist. 

“So you’re like _friends_?” He hopes he hasn’t befriended Kurt’s sworn enemy or arch rival or anything like that. Though Kurt says he’s basically best friends with his arch rival so he thinks that spot is filled.

“Yes, actually. We just met for brunch last Saturday. And he was distinctly uninterested in hearing about the single TA of my Shakespeare class that I thought he might want to check out. Oh  this makes so much sense now!” Tina nods in realization. “All he said was that impossible deadlines, too much reading, and rubbery chicken aside, he’s not complaining because he likes his roommate. And if you know Kurt like I do, that is a high compliment.” Blaine hopes he knows Kurt like she does. Or maybe slightly differently. And yes, he recognizes Kurt’s slightly judgmental nature. “Oh man. I think he really likes you.” She’s nodding to herself, stunned. He’ll take it. “Wait, wait. You are the roommate he met over Santana’s banana condoms.”

“That’s me. I told him it was okay with me as long as he put a sock on the door.”

“He was so mortified. He’s not that kind of guy at all.”

“Actually-” 

“TMI,” Tina shakes her head vigorously. And Blaine feels just a little bit of pride that he knows a side of Kurt that is just for him.

“Okay well, do you know Rachel too?”

“Yup. We all met over our shared disdain for re-arranged Journey numbers, and there was no turning back.”

“Journey? Like the 80′s band?”

“Don’t ask. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together. And well, Kurt suffered through being the only out kid in high school for long enough, so if he wants to throw caution to the wind, you have my blessing.”

“I do actually really like him,” Blaine emphasizes. He didn’t expect to be spilling his secrets to one of Kurt’s high school friends, but as long as he is, he wants to make his noble intentions perfectly clear.

“It _is_ romantic,” Tina sighs. “Maybe _I_ should start looking in unexpected places - like my residence don is pretty hot, or my cute theatre TA.”

“Tina, he’s grading your paper.”

“I know, such intrigue, right? I mean, why don’t these forbidden romances happen to me?” Tina stirs her coffee mindlessly with the brown stir stick.

Blaine squeezes her arm. “Don’t stop believin’, Tina. One day,” He says with the straightest face he can manage. Kurt would for sure have appreciated that one. Or laughed at him in the good way. He’s not sure which. 

“Terrible.” Tina rolls her eyes dramatically. “You would have fit right in our nerdy Glee club.” Blaine smiles. He hopes so. 

...

It’s Friday trivia night at the campus pub and Blaine has somehow managed to get Kurt to put down his needle and thread and abandon his quiet ways for at least a few hours of raucous trivia fun.  Their team is Blaine, Tina, Matt, Jeff, and now him, and naturally he dragged Rachel along. His knowledge of musical theatre is only rivalled by hers. And he likes to win.  

“I don’t think you realize how competitive I am,” He warns Blaine as they arrive at the pub, tables already filling with students and beer and nachos. “You may regret this.”

Blaine nudges him as they walk in, “Unlikely,” He whispers in his ear. “I like you for your body anyways.” Kurt elbows him. Hard. “Ow.” 

“Keep that up and I’m not sure I’m gonna let you come home with me tonight,” Kurt whispers back. “Oh wait.” They look at each other. A mutual smirk. The situation is kind of funny, they have to admit.

They’re seated around a rectangular table, greasy chips with melted cheddar and jalapenos between them, ready with hands on the red plastic buzzers the organizers handed out. They’re “Team Fanny” at Rachel’s insistence, and Kurt thinks it’s kind of funny in a rude kind of way but they’re all theatre students so it’s unironically Fanny Bryce to them. “Fanny?” Blaine says quietly to him. “Really?” Well, most of them.

The trivia announcer is a senior showman, hamming up his ‘Bob Barker’ chance at a spotlight. He clears his throat and waits for silence. He begins, “A 1970′s hard rock band famous for outrageous make up and an album euphemistically named ‘Love Gun’?” They look at each other blankly.

“I have no idea,” Blaine shakes his head. Matt and Jeff shrug their shoulders. Rachel is thinking very very seriously but she isn’t coming up with anything.

Buzz. Team Willy Wonka beside them rings in, “Kiss,” The unassuming sophomore in a kilt and sweater answers.

“Dammit, we should have known that!” Rachel looks at Kurt and Tina. 

“Mr. Schue made the girls do a KISS number in boys vs girls week one year,” Kurt explains.

Blaine grimaces. “Journey and Kiss? Not sure I would fit in with your Glee club after all.”

Next question is up. “Controversial Katy Perry song because not all girls wear cherry chocolate lipstick?” Bob Barker sing songs enthusiastically.

They all reach for the buzzer at the same time. Buzz. “I Kissed A Girl.” They all scream at once. Team Fanny for the win! Kurt is pleased. That’s more like it.

They miss the next two questions - None of them took high school chemistry and Jeff mixed up meiosis and mitosis for the biology one. Can they get back to theatre please?

Bob seems to oblige, “Taming of the Shrew as a Broadway musical?” And luckily Rachel is a star in her Shakespeare class because she buzzes in with “Kiss Me Kate” instantly.

Kurt has the next one. Bob announces that “This town is the home of Disney’s Animal Kingdom” and teams Willy Wonka and Hogwarts’ quick hands both guess Orlando but Kurt who is slower but knows the answer gets his answer in third and knows he’s right - It’s Kissimmee. Orlando’s cheaper neighbour. They all beam at him. And Blaine squeezes his knee under the table. Maybe socializing on occasion is an okay thing.

And then it’s the final question. Bob drum rolls on the table. “The former Secretary of State famous for the truism “power is the great aphrodisiac”?”

The room is quiet. Apparently no one is quite as quick on non-fictional American history. Then Blaine gets a twinkle in his eye, smiles at Kurt, and presses the buzzer. “Henry Kissinger,” He says proudly.

And they win. A plate of free extra cheesy nachos which exactly no one wants at one o’clock in the morning. But still, they won. It’s glorious. And Kurt is elated and also tired. It is way past his bedtime.

After graciously offering to share their loot with the Willy Wonkas and the Wizards, they grab their coats and set out. “Blaine is our fearless hero tonight,” Rachel wraps her arm around Kurt’s side, hugging him in approval. “The winning question.”

“Mmmm,” Kurt agrees. “And Kissinger was wrong, really. Brains are the great aphrodisiac. So attractive.” Kurt looks fondly over at Blaine who is a step ahead of them, high fiving his gaggle of friends from who knows which classes. 

Rachel looks over at the object of Kurt’s affection. “And his ass,” Rachel says, sizing up the just-so fit of Blaine’s tight red pants.. “Also attractive.” 

Kurt nods slowly, appreciating the view. “Team Fanny, all the way.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine finds the situation hilarious. He can’t help it. More than any creative techniques or perfect skills, he figures his limited but distinct sexual experiences thus far have taught him that there is nothing wrong with things going wrong. He’s crazy about Kurt - his wit, his sharp tongue, his talent, even his abrasive but true moral compass. Not to mention his drool-worthy body. And no amount of accidental sexual mishaps is going to change that. The truth is that it probably just makes him fall further.  Kurt clumsy and vulnerable feels like a part of Kurt only for him. They did meet over Kurt’s spilled banana condoms after all.

He recognizes, though, that on this particular occasion, Kurt may not feel the same way. “Stop laughing, Blaine,” Kurt whine-warns. Blaine isn’t quite sure which. Kurt is sitting on the edge of his bed, in only his white boxer briefs, glaring at his pile of now purple-pink clothes on the floor. Maybe the red wine wasn’t such a good idea. Blaine is equally down to his black boxer briefs, though his pile of clothes on the floor have been spared from the drama. 

It had all been going perfectly. Both of them clearly on the same page and not in any mood to take things slowly, practically full glasses of red wine abandoned on Kurt’s desk by his closet as they pressed into each other against the closet door, kissing, biting, and unbuttoning as quickly as they could manage. They took off each other’s shirts and discarded their own pants and socks to get back to where they wanted to be as quickly as possible. Which was up against each other, almost naked, and eager to explore. Blaine loved getting to be with Kurt like this - wrapped around his tight strong body, his hands on Kurt’s chest, his ass, squeezing hard and listening to Kurt moan in response and pull his body closer, letting them both feel each other. No shyness. No embarrassment. They both want this. They’ve been waiting. For Saturday night. With chocolates and red wine. God.

And that was pretty much when Kurt moved to switch their positions, wanting Blaine against the closet and more room, when Kurt’s elbow knocked over not one, but both red wine glasses. Right on to his pile of hastily thrown clothes. Blaine can actually not think of anything that would burst the balloon of sex god Kurt more instantly than red wine on his high fashion knock off clothes. And he is obviously the worst boyfriend because he finds it hilarious. If slightly frustrating.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Kurt’s head is buried in his hands and he is just shaking it over and over again. 

“Okay, listen Kurt. I have a plan,” Blaine bites back his laugh again. “Given that the mood is sufficiently ruined,” Kurt groans, “For the moment,” Blaine adds, “I am going to put on my bathrobe and take your clothes to the laundry room, pre-treat them and put them in the wash right away. Just a guy doing his laundry on a Saturday night,” Blaine soothes. He figures that they will have lots of other chances to have sex and that his goal tonight is simply to have Kurt realize that, and that this doesn’t matter, except perhaps as excellent fodder for a roast when they’re like turning 50 or something. And also the goal is to save Kurt’s clothes, of course. Kurt nods in silent agreement, still not looking up from his hands.

**

Kurt admits that he is pleasantly surprised by Blaine’s rescue operation. Blaine isn’t mad or whiny or seeing this as a bad omen. He just took charge, wiped up the wine, and swiftly exited on the clothes’ rescue mission. That wine better come off because he is virtually certain he will never find another large print skull McQueen t-shirt at a rummage sale. Especially not one that fits him that well. Blaine kept looking him up and down. That was the intention. And it had worked so well. Dammit. He breathes out.

Well, he definitely cannot let Blaine win this whole evening. He warned him he was competitive. And he isn’t just going to sit and sulk and let Blaine sing him a lullaby to sleep. And he’s pretty sure that Blaine is pretty sure that sex is no longer on the table for the night. But Kurt is determined. And ready. And horny. So he’s just going to have to prove him wrong. Blaine will probably return in about six minutes, Kurt estimates -  a casual stroll to the basement laundry, thorough spraying, and spraying again (he better), and an unrushed stroll back. Can’t have anyone getting suspicious. That’s enough time for him to take charge of the situation. He cues the background music.

**

Blaine gently opens the door to their dorm room, detergent and an empty laundry bag in one hand, expecting to see Kurt lying on his bed, hands over his face, despondent. He’s ready with an angry Madonna setlist in his head, and the extra dark chocolate he has stashed in his drawer.

He’s right. Kurt is on his bed. Angry music already thumping through the room. Oh. _Oh._ Oh my god and his hands are definitely not over his face. They are…otherwise occupied. “Oh my god.” He’s pretty sure he said that out loud.

“Hi,” Kurt looks directly in his eyes, hand continuing to move up and down with obvious intention under just his forest green sheet. _Zig zig zig zig_. He should never try to predict Kurt Hummel’s next move.

“Hi,” Blaine breathes out in response, relaxed body now definitely waking up under his robe. He doesn’t know where to look so he looks everywhere -  at Kurt’s long legs practically out to the end of his bed, covered loosely by the sheet, at his hand working his cock - that’s what it is - his cock - deliberately slowly to the beat of the Nine Inch Nails, beckoning him, _I wanna fuck you like an animal_ \- god the lyrics, at his bare shoulders and chest, nipples hard and pink against his pale skin, and at his determined face, filled with desire, only a hint of nervousness but Blaine sees it. It is incredibly hot. “You’re-” He blushes. “Wow.” 

Kurt closes his eyes for a moment. Blaine figures he’s trying to figure out the script here. Blaine sure as hell has no idea what it is, but he’s willing to improvise. “I want you,” is what Kurt says.

Blaine has never gotten naked so fast.  “I want you too.” He moves quickly under the sheet of the single dorm bed. Puts his hands on Kurt’s warm body. He knows this won’t last long. At least not for him and from what he can feel - oh my god he can feel him, _is_ feeling him - Kurt’s almost there as well. He bats Kurt’s hand away, “Can I?” Kurt pulls him in, kissing him aggressively, moving his own hands to explore Blaine’s body. _Help Me. You make me perfect._  And the soundtrack is pretty much sex in music form.

Can he really consider eight minutes of frantic touching and pulling and kissing and coming within seconds of each other, all over each other (and Kurt’s sheets), the best sex he’s ever had? He knows it probably isn’t. That he probably should give Mr. Valjean more credit for at least a couple of their more moving moments. But it was on fire, as far as Blaine is concerned. Desire coursing through him at a speed that he isn’t used to. Watching Kurt let go underneath him. He is definitely closer to God.

“That was - not exactly how I pictured my first time having sex,” Kurt turns to face him on the bed after Blaine quickly cleans them up in a post-sex daze. Blaine is still looking up at the ceiling, a bit stunned. Kurt’s smiling though.

Blaine turns to him, “Hey, I bought you red roses.”

“I did picture that part, actually.” Of course he did. Kurt is a romantic at heart. But also a surprise sex god who wants to aggressively fuck with Trent Reznor playing in the background. Though he thinks that may even be more of a surprise to Kurt than to him.

“Of course you did,” Blaine rests his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “A classical symphony playing in the background rather than pounding Nine Inch Nails?”

“Actually,” Kurt turns to him conspiratorily. “Okay, don’t laugh at me.”

“Never,” Blaine bites his lower lip.

“Well, I always pictured my first time on a picnic blanket on a bed of lilacs as the sun sets,” Kurt confesses.

“Rather than spilling red wine all over your McQueen knock off and masturbating under a sheet until he couldn’t resist you anymore?”

Kurt turns beet red. “Must you always speak so,” Kurt pauses, “Technically?”

“We’re there, Kurt. We’ve reached that stage. Penis, penis, penis, penis,” Blaine whispers in his ear, “and masturbation.”

Kurt laughs despite his red cheeks. “Well, we may be but you are still going to make me blush with all that sex talk.”

Kurt is the perfect enigma. Blaine takes Kurt’s earlobe between his lips and sucks hard before whispering, “That’s my intention.”

**

Dammit. Blaine does win. He’ll have to up his game next time.

***

Blaine clicks their room door closed as he walks in, Irish Spring-fresh and drippy from the shower, and tosses his burgundy bathrobe casually onto the hook.

Kurt looks up from his book. _Oh_. This is new. Blaine opens his closet, back turned to Kurt while he ruffles through today’s clothing choices, resting his weight on one hip. He doesn’t say a thing, shower-moist back and round ass on display while he tussles from one shirt to the next. And well, Kurt decides to look. It’s his private room, _their_ private room, and anyways, he likes the view. 

“Purple plaid bowtie with black shirt or green bowtie with yellow shirt?” Blaine asks into the closet.

“Purple,” Kurt says automatically. “With blue jeans. And is this what we do now?”

Blaine turns around, innocent eyes belied by his…lower parts…clearly waking up. “What?” Blaine asks and Kurt groans as he lets his eyes roam down Blaine’s body - more olive and glistening in the daylight than he noticed in their heated post-wine disaster affair last night. “Come on, don’t you think it was getting a bit involved the way we were turning around or excusing ourselves every time one of us wanted to change?” Blaine opens his underwear drawer and picks out a pair of red boxer briefs, still sauntering around in his birthday suit.

“Yes, Blaine. But there was a reason for that,” Kurt huffs.

“Yeah, and I just figured it’s no longer applicable. You know, now that we-” Blaine slips on his underwear and walks over to Kurt sitting on his desk chair.

“Spicy,” Kurt nods to the choice of red and stands up to face him - as in, to face Blaine’s face, and not Blaine’s red covered half-interested body-part-that-shall-not-be-named that faced him sitting while Blaine stood in front of him. “And here I thought the reason was even more applicable now.” Kurt places his hands softly on Blaine’s chest, nipples under his fingertips. _God._

Blaine looks confused. “But we’ve now seen each other and been together-”

“And so it’s like dangling a candy store in front of insatiable children.” Kurt pulls him in.

“Dangling?”

“Oh my god. You are a child.”

“Penis, penis, penis, penis,” Blaine whispers in his ear. And Kurt cannot possibly miss the opportunity to defy expectations.

“If you insist,” Kurt lets his hands fall down Blaine’s chest and into the elastic of the red fig leaf. He wills himself not to blush. He feels bold, _is_ bold, and lets himself notice what it feels like to have Blaine get hard in his hands, watch Blaine’s eyes close. Blaine moans.

“Ah Kurt,” Blaine protests but pushes against him. “It’s 11am and we’re supposed to go study in 30 minutes,” Blaine breathes deeply as Kurt watches his own hand moving under the red barrier.

“I’ll make this quick, then.” Blaine gives in and leans back against the desk, Kurt fully clothed pressed up against him, kissing his neck as Blaine’s breathing gets faster and he tries to muffle the sounds that Kurt realizes anyone can hear in their dorm thin walls on a quiet Sunday morning. But god, it’s sexy. Blaine comes on Kurt’s hands and on his own cherry underwear. What are Sunday mornings for?

Kurt unsticks himself and grabs tissues, wiping his own hands and handing a bunch to a slightly dazed Blaine. Blaine shakes his head at him in elated reprimand. “I was trying to be casual, you know?”

“You failed,” Kurt smirks. 

“I accept defeat.”

Opportunity presented itself. Kurt wins.

***

There is no walk of shame when you already live together. Regardless of the co-habitation being because the administrators matched Kurt’s request for a “gay friendly” roommate with Blaine’s simply very obviously gay application (“Blaine Anderson. 19 years old. Friendly. Gay. Likes fashion _and_ sports.”), people simply expect them to show up together to the library on a Sunday morning at noon. Nobody even blinks an eye. It feels completely different than sneaking back into his room after one of his frosh week flings at 4am, trying not to wake Kurt up. And Kurt would inevitably open his eyes, shake his head and laugh and turn back over into his comfy duvet. _Their_ Sunday morning arrival is so expected that it’s almost boring. But Blaine is definitely not bored.

Kurt sits at the library carol beside him on one side, Tina on his other side, they’re studying for their music history mid term. He concentrates on Beethoven for about 26 minutes before he looks up at Kurt, leaning over his textbook. Kurt’s focused, long fingers drumming on the pages as he memorizes the high points of Beethoven’s life. 

Blaine’s supposed to be studying. Really.  He’s playing the part in ‘casual boyfriends study together on the weekend’ - a play so boring, nobody comes. He tried for casual boyfriends get dressed casually in the morning yesterday. Total fail. And here he is. Failing again because he is distracted. Kurt has this quirk that he sticks out the tip of his tongue when he’s trying to focus on something or when he’s surprised or just randomly. Of course he’s distracted. _Really._

“Yes?” Kurt turns to him, amused. He’s been caught staring. 

Blaine blushes but stays in character. “We should quiz each other on Beethoven later,” Blaine whispers in his library appropriate voice. 

“Alright,” Kurt says but holds back a giggle, “If that’s what you have in mind.”

That is what he has in mind. That’s what casual boyfriends do the night before a big test. He turns back to his book, rises to the occasion and actually studies for a full 43 more minutes. He for sure deserves a break now.

Kurt has this other quirk that he runs the fingers of one of his hands along his other hand as a calming technique. It is not calming at all. Forget this. He knows his stuff. He scrawls a note quickly on the ripped corner of a piece of paper from his agenda. “How’s Beethoven?” He whispers to Kurt.

Kurt shrugs, “Deaf and soon to be dead.”

“Imagine that,” Blaine says as he passes him the note and begins to pack up his bag, still casual, not watching Kurt open the note. He hears the paper crinkle open.

_I want to give you a blowjob._

Blaine looks up just in time to see Kurt’s tongue slip out of his mouth and his cheeks pinken as he crumples up the note in a teeny tiny ball. 

“Well then,” Kurt stands up packing up his own bag. “Screw Beethoven.”

They wave at Tina as they push in their library chairs for the next lucky NYADA student busy on a Sunday. Casual boyfriends out.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt is gazing out his dorm room window, images of the Manhattan street distorted by the bucketing freezing rain. Blaine is stuck in the music building after his choir rehearsal. The rain is pelting down outside, making any run attempt back to their dorm a miserable, sopping wet proposition. And Blaine’s wearing his Camper shoes. _As if._  Clearly he needs to wait out the storm.

Obviously the rain is a sign. He needs to tell his dad. About Blaine. His dad is going to be here for the winter showcase in just two short weeks and he does not want to be caught in that awkward position of introducing him to his “roommate” - air quotes. It’s such a cliche. 

And here the rain has provided him with at least 30 minutes of uninterrupted skype time to manage any challenging responses. It’s not that his dad doesn’t want him to have a boyfriend. By all accounts, he thinks his dad will be over the moon in his own quiet way. He suffered with him through four long years of heterosexual high school mating rituals knowing that Kurt was waiting for his turn. And it’s definitely not that he thinks his dad won’t like Blaine. Blaine _is_ the guy you want to bring home -  a soloist in the winter showcase, studious, polite, kind. He wears bowties unironically and likes sports. By all accounts, his dad will like Blaine more than he does. But, he is pretty sure that his dad would not have recommended living together when you’re exactly one month into a relationship.

“Kurt? Didn’t we just talk yesterday?” His dad’s image appears on his screen.

“Yeah, I know. But my roommate - _Blaine_ , isn’t here right now-”

“Uh oh. Do I need to sit down for this?” He sees his dad shift back in his ratty green armchair, concern lines visible on his forehead.

“No. No. I mean, I hope not. Though feel free to make yourself comfortable.” He should really just spit it out. 

“You fail a test? Being bullied? Don’t tell me you’re being bullied in New York City of all places-”

“No, dad. No. Good grades. No bullies. Well, unless you count Rachel harassing me to listen to her sing her winter showcase solo each and every day,” Kurt takes a deep breath. “It’s good news, actually,” He pauses. “I have a boyfriend.” Well, there goes the easy part.

His dad claps his hands on his knees, smiling. “Really? Well, then. I’m happy for you, Kurt.”

“Yeah. Because you’re going to meet him soon when you come for the show.” He sees his dad nod in recognition. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to like him. Maybe even more than you like me-”

“Kurt-”

“No seriously, dad. He is not only smart, and polite, and impeccably dressed-”  Kurt knows he’s rambling and his dad looks clearly amused by the goofy grin on his face. He’s trying to reel it in and evidently failing.

“I’ll probably still like you more.” 

“He likes football.” Kurt blurts out proudly. 

“Ha! Well, score one for-did you tell me his name?”

Kurt bites his lip and looks at the ceiling. “Blaine.”

“Blaine. Okay.” It’s clear the moment it clicks. “As in your,” His dad pauses. “Because Blaine is not that common a name.” God, why couldn’t he have been named Jeff or Matt or some other less obviously _my roommate_ name?

Kurt groans, “Yes, dad. It wasn’t on purpose.  But yes it appears that I am dating my roommate.”

“That isn’t the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

“No.”

“What are you going to do if you break up?” And here we go.

“No idea.”

“Or what about next year? Do you move out?”

“No clue.”

“I mean, Kurt. I know you. What if he wants to decorate with mixed up patterns?”

“End of the relationship.” His dad laughs. That has to be a good sign. “So, what do you think?” He still wants his dad’s approval even if he knows it isn’t the most practical idea he’s ever had.

His dad stares at him through the screen, “So you have no answers?” 

Kurt shakes his head and shrugs. There is no script for living together before your first kiss. “Nope.”

His dad mirrors his shrug and laughs, “Welcome to relationships.”

***

The sun is blazing through their window, melting the sleet and slush on the street below, and perfectly matching Blaine’s blissed out post-blowjob Sunday morning mood. They’ve only tried that particular activity a couple of times - three to be precise, and he is pretty sure that he is the luckiest man in the universe. 

He would never have asked Kurt to swallow, he’s a gentleman and not everyone likes to do that - but Kurt wanted to, and did, and largely succeeded (other than that little bit he is currently dabbing away from his mouth and god that is sexy too). Kurt is sitting above him, naked and coy, politely wiping away the sticky mess on Blaine’s stomach and Blaine is staring at him shamelessly and gleefully, basking in the bliss of his enviable situation.  

Which is why when Kurt lies back down and cuddles into him, he does not expect him to whisper in his ear, “Despite what you may now be thinking, my innocence is still alive and well.”

Blaine laughs out loud and turns to him, “Are we role playing now? Should I get a video camera?”

“Shut up, no,” Kurt turns to the ceiling. “I’m serious, actually.” Blaine looks at him skeptically. Kurt has been the initiator in virtually every realm of their newly found sex life and Blaine is always surprised. He told Kurt he was game for anything and this way he knows Kurt is always comfortable. Which means he is always comfortable. And he was literally just woken up to Kurt kissing down his body. “There are still things,” Kurt sighs, “That make me, you know, _blush_.”

“Yeah,” Blaine sighs back happily. “It’s really hot.” Kurt elbows him in the side. “Ow.”

“No, Blaine. I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“Things involving the-” Kurt stops. Blaine looks at him, recognition dawning.

“The ass?” 

“Not exactly the - I like your ass.“

“The asshole?” Blaine singsongs.

Kurt groans in affirmation. “Must you always?”

“Apparently,” Blaine laughs at their seemingly prescribed roles. Did he mention that Kurt has always been the initiator of the unchartered universes of their sex life? It’s just sometimes an unconventional initiation. “Kurt, I am totally fine if anal play isn’t your thing-”

“That is not what I’m trying to say, but it very well may be if you continue to talk like you’re a human sex education pamphlet.” 

“Never again,” Blaine promises sincerely. Even if he can’t help himself. “So what _are_ you trying to say?”

“That I’m,” Kurt pauses for the right word, “Curious.”

“About?”

“Come on, Blaine. I think we both know who the alpha male is in this relationship,” Kurt huffs.

They both nod and answer obviously, “You.” They look at each other suspiciously. Well then.

“What’s an alpha male anyways?” Blaine muses. “Dominant, the gentleman, in charge, leading the way?” Blaine rolls his eyes, laughing at himself.  “God these stereotypes are so tacky. A true gentleman also likes to have fingers up his ass.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re blushing,” Blaine notices in appreciation. Kurt has a point that there are advantages to not speaking like a human sex education pamphlet. Kurt’s crimson cheeks and not quite eye contact being one.

Kurt takes a deep breath, “Well, even if I like being in control, I am still curious about-”

“Having fingers up your ass.”

Kurt doesn’t blush this time. “Yes. And other things.”

Blaine feels his own body getting hotter. It’s not embarrassment.  “A bossy bottom?”

“Tacky.” 

“Better than ‘Either partner may enjoy anal stimulation?’” 

“Don’t make me regret this conversation.”

“Never.” Blaine climbs on top of him, naked bodies heavy and comfortable pressed together. “Either way. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be your alpha male, your bossy bottom, the “girl”,” Blaine makes air quotes, “The “boy” - whatever you want. But I do plan to rock your universe,” Kurt laughs at him and they kiss, relaxed and resolved and not going to have any more sex right now. “But I’m a mess and I want to take a shower.” Blaine kisses his lips and climbs off him.

“ _The girl_ and _the boy_?,” Kurt disdains to the ceiling. “So tacky, really.”

“Tacky can be fun, Kurt.”

“Says the bowtie wearing, human sex education pamphlet.”

Blaine grins mischieviously as he ties up his burgundy bathrobe. “We’ll just dress me up  - my pink plaid bowtie, and nothing else, and I’ll sing the virtues of water based lubricant to use with your banana flavored condoms. It’ll be _hot,_ ” Blaine says calmly as he walks out the door.

It will be.

***

Kurt determines that they definitely do have time to get naked one more time before his dad arrives for five days for the winter showcase. Of course his dad’s not staying in the dorm room with them, but Kurt’s expected to stay in the hotel with his dad for at least half those nights, and their days are booked with this tourist thing and that NYADA thing, and really. He and Blaine are young. And enthusiastic. And exactly when do you think they’re going to be able to have sex in the next five days?  It feels like forever.

“Come on, Blaine,” Kurt nags as he tosses his shirt and pants on the desk chair. “We don’t have a lot of time and you’re still dressed.”

“Kurt, are you really sure? You need to leave to pick him up at the airport in 20 minutes. I really don’t want to be the cause of you being late. Not a good first impression.”

“Like I’m going to tell him what caused the delay. And really, if you touch me with even half the skill that you used last night, this won’t take long at all.” Kurt’s curiosity had finally got the better of him, and as it turns out, real gentlemen definitely do love having fingers up their ass. If you can call him a gentleman. Though you can certainly call Blaine a gentleman, and Blaine very fortunately loves having his own fingers up his ass, and so has developed excellent skills for use on a more timid partner. Or at least previously timid. Kurt loved it. All his fears and preconceptions about _there_ and _that_ and _ew_ blown out of the water by _wow that feels so good._

“So I’m guessing you want a repeat of last night?” Blaine whispers in his ear as he finally crawls in next to him. Kurt just bats his eyelashes with his sweetest ‘yes please’ face and of course Kurt gets what he wants. It’s amazing. Again. And Blaine is sufficiently mesmerized by how turned on Kurt is that he comes on top of him within seconds of Kurt. That’s amazing too. “God I feel like I should sing you poetry about how incredible it is to watch you like that -”

“Yes please, Prince Charming. But not now because I’ve got to go.” Kurt is up from the bed as soon as they’re done, re-layering and trying to tidy quickly.

“From wine and chocolates to fuck ‘em and forget ‘em. Oh where has my silly romantic gone?” Blaine sing songs, watching Kurt frantically throw his things in a bag.

“I’m right here, drama queen. I’m just late! Besides, I think we both agree the wine was a bad idea.”

“I’ll clean up. Just go. I seriously don’t want you to be late for your dad. I have an impression to make.”

“Okay. Just be ready. We’ll come by here so he can see the dorm and then we’re picking up Rachel for dinner.”

“What should I wear?”

If only Blaine knew his acid washed jeans and flannel loving dad. Though he thinks he’ll appreciate Blaine’s wardrobe eccentricities. “Whatever you want. Seriously. Just more than that.” Kurt takes a last appreciative look at Blaine’s naked body before pecking him on the lips and running out the door. “Be ready!”

…

Blaine is definitely ready. In that he is dressed. If not totally emotionally prepared to meet his roommate-turned-boyfriend’s beloved dad. But he figures his red bowtie with his navy button down and blue jeans have just that old school appeal to woo. And he can turn on the charm. He’s got this. 

Kurt texts that they’re pulling up to the building, just as he’s finishing putting away the laundry. He folded Kurt’s too. It’s not a regular thing. Just a courtesy not to have his underwear on full view when his dad walks in. Their room looks cosy with their broadway posters and throw pillows on Kurt’s bed. His dad is sure to be impressed. 

He opens Kurt’s underwear drawer, putting away the pile of boxer briefs, when he feels something not-clothes in the way. And there it is -  a poorly re-stuffed and spilling out box of (unused  - no thank you!) banana flavoured condoms. He should really thank Santana for being the unintentional cupid. 

“Blaine? Hey-” Kurt’s voice startles him out of his walk down memory lane and naturally, _naturally_ \- in his haste to stuff the condoms back into the drawer, they spill right on to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Kurt and Blaine say simultaneously. Burt, Kurt’s dad, looks over Kurt’s shoulder and down at the culprit condoms lying all over their previously clean dorm room floor. He smirks. Kurt’s dad actually smirks. “Nice room.” 

“Dad, this is Blaine.”

“I figured.”

“And this,” Kurt gestures to the banana flavored floor, “Is not what it seems.”

“Hey you guys are adults, good to see you’re being safe.” Burt is biting back an amused laugh, smirk still firmly plastered on his face. Kurt’s dad is the coolest.

“They’re Santana’s,” Kurt explains. Blaine bites his lower lip and Burt looks at them both back and forth.

“I think I just don’t want to know.” Thank god. “I’m Burt.”

“Blaine.” Blaine shakes Burt hand. 

“So how about I give you guys a second to umm, clean up,” Burt chuckles, “And I”ll meet you down by the car for dinner.” The door clicks closed behind him.

Blaine braces himself. Kurt’s wrath  - even more intimidating than meeting your boyfriend’s dad over a box of spilled condoms. “What were you-?!” 

“I was putting away your laundry and came across this old box and then I was startled and-” Blaine raises his arms in defense.

“Oh well,” Kurt sighs. “My dad doesn’t care, it seems.” And Kurt’s face mirrors his dad’s own smirk.  Kurt bends down to help Blaine pick up the rest of the mess. “It’s kind of poetic, isn’t it?”

“Ahh yes,” Blaine nods. “Canon’s great romances all begin over a spilled box of banana flavored condoms.”

“Just think of the misunderstanding trope possibilities.”

“Just think,” Blaine agrees.

“But I think they get together in the end.”

“I think so.”

 


End file.
